


A Cold Sweat

by dontmakemelaugh



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: (eventually I promise), Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lots, Mutual Pining, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, amity gets raped, child rape, dont read this if you dont like rape, gay panic lol, the earlier chapters are more fucked up than the later ones, there is rape in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontmakemelaugh/pseuds/dontmakemelaugh
Summary: Amity Blight's life is hell. That's all there is to it. It's hell. At her lowest, she decides there's only one way to escape it, besides ending it entirely: taking the identity of another being, and trapping them in her place. She cultivates her magic, spends her days searching for a mark, and finally she settles on one, a human, naive, an odd, recent arrival to the Boiling Isles. Determined to cause trouble, it seemed. Someone no one in this world would miss. Someone whose world would be the perfect hiding place. Someone she'd feel no regret weaving...if she managed to keep her emotions in check, just for a little bit longer.Except, even from the start, this human, Luz Noceda, has a way of entrancing her. Already, the wall of cruelty and coldness Amity had spent years building around herself has begun to crumble. Before long, Amity's guilt and her newfound love show her to another way out. It includes a bit more anime fanart than she expected.
Relationships: Amity Blight/Luz Noceda
Comments: 138
Kudos: 360





	1. Anguish

“Amity? Are you in there?”

Amity choked on her own sobs. “Go away!” 

A second of silence was all it took for her to realize her mistake. Dread flooded her stomach, and she pressed her eyes shut. Her father knocked on the door again.

“What did I tell you about locking doors, Amity.”

That if he was mad enough, he’d turn the back of her legs black and blue from her thighs to her ankles, and her teacher would ask her why she was struggling to keep up, and why she was walking funny, and Amity would tell her she’d just been training extra hard, and Lilith would believe her.

“I’m sorry,” Amity said softly.

“I know.” Her father’s voice became low, sending a shiver down her spine. “Let me in.”

She rubbed away her snot and tears and stood. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked, opened the door, and stepped back. Her father towered over her, holding a slice of birthday cake.

“I told you not to make a scene,” he said. Amity flinched. There were times when his voice boomed, but now, his disapproval held the power of a storm. 

“Maybe—maybe you shouldn’t have made Willow go away!”

Saying her former friend’s name made her eyes prickle with tears once more. Willow’s devastated voice repeated endlessly in her head, followed by Amity’s own cruel responses, horrifically echoing again and again, pounding the inside of her skull.

But when her father set down the slice of cake and beckoned her over with a finger, it all became fear.

She obeyed, as much as she hated him, and stepped forward, fists clenched, bracing for the pain. He grabbed her by her collar and struck her. Amity cried out from the sting on her cheek, and he slapped her again, whipping her face to the side.

“I ought to break every bone in that girl’s hands, so she’ll never do magic again,” he growled. Amity gasped and pulled away. She tumbled out of his grip.

“You’re horrible!” she screamed, “I hate you!”

“Would you say that if I told you I loved you?”

“You don’t love me! If—if you loved me, you wouldn’t—“

“Do you know why I do this?” He stepped closer, and she scrambled back. “Because I love you more than anything in the world. I made you a Blight. The least you could do is be grateful.”

“Grateful for what? All you do is hurt me!”

“Food. Shelter. Schooling. Friendship. A life.”

“I’d rather live in the woods.” He reached forward and grabbed her hair. 

Suddenly, he stood, yanking her to her feet. She winced from the pain of her scalp, but his grip showed no signs of weakening.

“Really.” He pulled her away so she was facing him, too low for her to stand upright, so her legs scrabbled on the floor. She should’ve begged for forgiveness right then, but she didn’t, just stared, too frightened to even speak.

Her father half led half dragged her out the door, and she was forced to follow, heart pounding against her chest like it was going to pop out of her ribs and flop on the floor. He took the quieter halls, away from the guests, away from those awful girls he’d chosen for her, away from that cake, a slice of which had been left abandoned in her room. She never deserved it anyways.

When they reached the back door, he threw open the door and tossed her outside. Amity landed in the dirt. The night wind was cold and harsh, the moon a sliver amongst the stars. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked up at him.

He summoned his staff and slammed it on the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. She knew it was too late. He’d do all those things he said he was too kind for, lash her, brand her, tear out her teeth, lock her in a cold, dark room and never let her out. “I’ll be good! I’m sorry!”

“You get a minutes head start, little one,” he said. His mouth widened in a smile. She choked on her own tears. “Go on. Run.”

Amity scrambled to her feet far too late. 

“One.”

She stumbled into a sprint, kicking up dirt behind her.

“Two.”

The dark forest surrounding the manor approached as her father’s voice faded in the distance. Already, her breaths were heavy, her tears clogging up her airways. The towering trees were a blur around her, the night air whipping against her wet cheeks.

She didn’t even consider what he had in store for her; only that she needed to run as far as she could. Already, her legs burned, and her sinuses stung. How long had it been? Had he finished counting? _I’m sorry_ , she wanted to yell, _I’ll be good..._

Amity ran, and ran, and ran, and even when her lungs clawed for rest, she kept going.

She didn’t know when she fell, only that her little legs failed her, and she tumbled face forward into the dirt. Her surroundings spun. She coughed and heaved, pressing her palms into the ground.

“Oh Amity...”

Her father’s voice was near. Casual. Quiet. She covered her mouth, muffling her sobs. He hated it when she groveled. He _despised_ it. Amity’s gaze darted around, finding only endless forest. She crept behind a tree and hugged her knees to her chest.

His footsteps neared, and she bit down on her tongue. He wasn’t even on his staff. How’d he get so near? 

Her breaths quaked, nearly revealing her location. Leaves crunched underfoot. Heavy footsteps led to silence.

“You can’t hide from me.” His voice was smooth, slow, sending a chill ripping through her veins.

His footsteps continued, and for a moment, Amity thought he’d moved on, but then a hand grabbed her by the back of her shirt and threw her to the ground. She scrambled back. Her father loomed over her, staff tightly in his grip. He grinned. One second she was curled up, the next, sprawled in the dirt. Her head rung from the impact, but she scrambled to her knees and took one last desperate attempt to escape. His foot plunged onto her back. Amity collapsed, air knocked from her lungs. She drew a wobbly circle in the dirt

“Abomination--”

He pressed her face into the ground and straddled her back, pinning her down with his entire weight. Her magic dissolved into the air. Fresh tears fell from her cheeks as he reached forward and grasped her chin.

“Cast one spell,” he murmured, “And I shatter your jaw.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” Amity sobbed. This was what he wanted, this was all he wanted, for her to apologize for being such a horrible, horrible child. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”

_I’ll be good. I’ll be good._

She said it until her throat was raw, but she knew deep down inside that it was no use.

“Oh Amity, you’re awful at following directions. I told you to run. Look at you now. Were you even trying?”

“I’ll go back with you. I’ll talk to my friends. I’ll be good!”

“You think I told you to run all the way out here just so I could bring you back?” Her father laughed. “You’re such a stupid child. It’s about time I showed you what happens to stupid children.”

His breath rasped hot and heavy on the back of her neck. Despite the warmth, she shivered. 

“It’s a good thing I made you run out here, wasn’t it? It would be a shame if someone were to find you like this.”

“Wh-what?” Her father seized her skirt and yanked it down to her ankles. She gasped and wriggled helplessly beneath him. “What are you gonna do?”

He pulled her skirt off her legs and tossed it to the side.

“Fuck you into the dirt.”

Amity shrieked. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face into the ground. The impact sent spots through her vision. 

“I was going to tell you to be quiet, but for once I’ll let you scream all you want.”

He took her flailing arms and pinned them behind her back, twisting them painfully. Tears prickled her eyes once more. 

“No. Please, no!”

“Nevermind.” He tore off her underwear and shoved it into her mouth. “I’ve had enough.”

She began to sob into the gag as he unbuttoned his trousers. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. The dread grew and grew inside her stomach, until she tasted bile on the back of her tongue. His knee released from her leg, but then another, warmer part of him brushed her backside. He forced her legs apart. Amity clenched her eyes shut.

“Just breathe,” he said, positioning his erection against her cunt. She did what he said, taking in shaky breaths. How pathetic, even now, Amity followed his demands. “You’re dry. Real dry.”

When he shoved it inside her, not even the gag could muffle her screams. He let go of her wrists and grasped her shoulders, shoving her further into the ground. He was ripping through her, like an axe through wood, like a blade through flesh. Amity’s struggles did nothing. 

“It won’t fit!” She tried to yell, as she kicked and squirmed and fought. Her father grunted and thrust again. A muffled howl escaped her lips. His movements were feral, brutal. It was all wrong, humiliating and painful and terrifying. The desperate resistance of her immature body did nothing to deter him, with every struggle, he simply pushed further, until she was positive he’d impale her all the way through.

Except he didn’t. His hips met hers, and he moaned. 

“Think your temper tantrum was worth it yet?”

“N-no more…” she tried to say, grasping his arms desperately, “I can’t—“

“You can, and you will.” He pulled out and thrust again, and she buried her face in the dirt. “I’ve been waiting years to do this to you. I must say, I should’ve done it sooner.”

He pulled out and knelt above her. She breathed out and lifted her head. 

“Ah ah!” He slammed her face down again. “You’re a bit too tight for my tastes. How about I...loosen you up a bit.”

She screamed again when the cold wood handle of his staff parted her folds. He grasped it tight and forced it inside of her. She gurgled, feeling something tear, her throat too hoarse for screams. Her father shoved it another few inches, meeting resistance far past her threshold of pain. His rhythm quickened, fucking her with the staff. Her vision went dark.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours. Amity’s screams turned to soft sobs, even when she felt the blood dripping down her legs. She didn’t even notice when he threw back his staff and mounted her himself, only moaned in pain and humiliation on the forest floor. There was no more resistance, only sticky slickness that disgusted her to her core. After some time, she didn’t know how long, her father began to stroke her face, pulling her hair from her eyes and holding her chin gently.

“Still awake?” He cooed. When she didn’t answer, he slapped her cheek, and she nodded weakly. “Look at you, Amity. Look at how strong you are. I don’t think your ‘friend’ would stand a chance if I came after her.”

She whimpered. Not Willow, not sweet, soft Willow.

“I’ll be watching you two. I know you don’t like to obey me. If I see a hint of companionship between you and that half-a-witch, well...she’s so small. I think I’d break her.”

Amity pressed her eyes shut.

“I wonder what it would be like to make you watch me have her for hours.” He ruffled her hair and laughed. “Or, you’re such a talented witch, you’ll get your staff early, and you can fuck her bloody with it."

He grunted and collapsed. Something wet and warm spurted into her insides, and she shuddered. He laid on top of her, his weight pressing the air out of her lungs. An owl hooted in the distance. The cold forest air blew past her face, making her shiver.

Her father pulled himself out of her, slowly, tortuously slowly, and stood, leaving her sore and exposed. Amity gritted her teeth and rolled over onto her side, trying not to cry out from the burning pain in her groin.

She pulled out the gag and laid there, gasping for breath. It squished in her fist. She looked up. Her father wiped his staff with his hand and looked back at her, a hint of amusement in his expression.

“I’ll—“ 

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll...I’ll tell…”

“Tell who?”

“Mother. I’ll tell mother...you did this.”

“And what will you tell her?”

She licked the tears off her lips.

“Go on then. Tell her I fucked you. Tell her I raped you so hard you cried. Tell her I did it on the disgusting forest floor, and I did it with my staff. I’m sure she’d love to imagine that.”

Lilith. She’d tell Lilith. She had to know. She’d tell her everything.

Amity closed her eyes. When she opened them, her father was gone. She was alone. An owl hooted, closer this time. She looked up. It perched on a branch, staring at her. The moon was high behind it.

She got up eventually. She limped to her feet and scraped the dried blood off her thighs, numb. She put her skirt back on, and left the soggy underwear on the ground. 

It hurt to walk. Terror crept through every inch of her whenever she heard a noise. Her father could be waiting for her.

He wasn’t. She entered the darkened, quiet house, wincing with every step. She opened the door to her room and slammed it shut behind her.

Amity looked at her hands. They were scraped up, and covered in dirt. Could get infected.

So she washed them off and went to bed and tried not to cry too much. Her father could hear her.


	2. Interlude: Amity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, Luz will be here soon. It won't all be bad.

I was a gift. At least that’s what I’m told. In truth, it was a debt to be paid that led to my possession, and a payment for a debt is rarely called a “gift.” Let’s imagine being my father. A horrid thought, I know. I’d certainly rather not. Being the patriarch of one of the most powerful families meant hundreds of witches clawing at your front doors, begging for favors. Let’s imagine being my father, waking to your two little spawn screaming at you to open the door. Let’s imagine opening it, wearing nothing but your robes and bunny slippers. 

(See, if I imagine the bunny slippers, he becomes just a bit less terrifying. He’ll throw me to the woods to hunt me down, but it’ll be in the bunny slippers.) 

Let’s imagine the sun in his eyes. Let’s imagine him shielding his vision with his thin, calloused hand to see the witch whose arrived in front of him.

(Remember this is imagination, so ignore the fact that the main entrance is west facing and therefore would not receive sunlight in the morning hours.)

“Ah, a visitor!” He says, being courteous as he is powerful. “What brings you to the Blight Manor?”

It’s here where I imagine the woman, who it turns out the person is, is searching for a favor. Perhaps its a dying child, or a pet too sick to eat. Perhaps, if I decide so, she’s being chased by the Emperor himself, for some horrific crime. In any case, what she wants from him requires incredible payment in return.

Let’s imagine being my father, when she refuses to pay. Imagine the rage he feels, selflessly helping this poor young woman, only to be slighted when she’s made to hold up the end of her bargain.

I was born in a dungeon of sorts, a makeshift prison within the lower bowels of the estate. My mother of blood had her limbs strapped down to the table on which I’d be birthed, her legs restrained spread so my head could be pulled through. She hissed and wailed like a feral beast as I came forth, bloodied and sobbing.

Edric cried and ran out of the room, and Father didn’t chase him.

He held me upwards and looked into my golden eyes and declared to the island: 

“This will do.”

So I, a debt repaid, and my parents, to whom I was given. Ungrateful, aren’t I. A stupid, ungrateful child. If only I listened, if only I tried harder, if only I was more. Good isn’t good enough. Good means he craves another hunt.

One night, after he was done with me, back when I still fought and screamed, he sat there, cleaning himself up, and watched me cry. I told him I hated him, again. I didn’t, truly. I loved him. I wished things could be back to how it used to be, picnics on the hill, late night demonstrations of spells I couldn’t bear sleeping without seeing, book after book read until I finally did sleep. I wonder if he missed that too. He still did those things. When he pressed a hand over my mouth and peeled off my uniform and held me down on the grass and told me to be quiet, I pretended we were still eating the tea eggs my mother had packed for us, and flying the kites he’d brought in a paper parcel wrapped with twine.

So I told him I hated him, and he looked at me, more amused than angry.

“Come with me,” he said, and when he says that, I follow.

He brought me up to the cliff, slowing down for nothing, not even when I cried out from the pain between my legs. He was waiting for me at the very top, and when I stumbled beside him, he grasped my shoulders and pressed my back against his chest. Slowly, he walked us towards the crumbling edge of the cliff, so I could see the waves crashing, white and foamy, against the boulders below. I shivered and trembled, and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Fight all you want, Amity. Fight, and you’ll find the sea’s cold embrace to be harsher than mine could ever be.”

I snap a cane over my arm to remember I belong to this flesh. I torment that half-a-witch to remember I still have control. I train again and again and again, wielding spell after spell, day after day, letting the bile pour freely through my veins, to remember I might have a chance of escape.

This body isn’t mine. Not anymore.

_ Abomination. Rise. _


	3. Gloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are likely to be infrequent, though I will be doing my best. I have work and other projects to concern myself with.

“Are you gonna mope here all night?”

Boscha squinted and tossed a dart at the hole-peppered paper target taped to her bedroom door. It stuck, then hung by its tip like a dangly earring. Strewn across the floor were dozens of its failed brethren, defeated. How sad.

Amity tightened the grip on the pen and stared at the paper. 

“I can’t  _ stay _ here all night,” she said, twirling it between her fingers.

“Well, it sure looks like you want to.” Boscha covered her eyes and flung another dart. This time, it landed,  _ plunk _ , solid on the edge of the target. She raised her arms and cheered. “Hey, you want to give this a try?”

Amity looked up.

“Is that a picture of me?” She raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Your aim is terrible.”

“Oh you know, I figured you deserved a place among the greats.” Boscha motioned to all her grudgby trophies. “So I drew a little portrait.”

Amity turned back to her book. “Your artwork is as good as your aim.”

The only art in Amity’s mind today were sigils, runes, glyphs and all their kin. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what that  _ human _ had drawn to cast her spell. A human on the boiling isles, already such a nuisance. But that very human helping that half-a-witch. And then, that human, doing  _ magic _ , humiliating her in front of hundreds. She seemed intent on ruining her life. Even more than it already was. Her grip tightened on the pen.

Boscha sighed obnoxiously and stuck the floorboards with a dart. “Are you still hung up on that whole witches duel fiasco? Let it go already, it’s not like she got you expelled or something.” Amity’s face went hot, and Boscha scoffed. “If it’s that bad, I could let a pint of human blood or two, and she’ll never bother you again.”

Amity tore off the paper and pressed two fingers to her forehead. “You don’t understand.”

“‘And you’ll never understand. Weh. I’m repainting my nails.’ I got it.” Boscha mocked. “Whatever. If you’re not gonna do something  _ not _ lame in my house--” she pointed to Amity’s scribblings, and Amity slapped her hand away. “--then just go home. No way you’re sleeping over again.”

_ Home. _ The word shocked her back straight, as if her spine had been pulled to the ceiling by a wire. She couldn’t go back. Not after what happened today. She wanted to wrap her arms around the human’s neck and shake her until her eyes fell out.

_ Do you have any idea how you’ve doomed me? Do you care? Will you laugh when you watch what he does to me, because of you? _

Her father couldn’t know about what happened at the covention--but he already knew. He always knew. Sweat beaded on the back of Amity’s neck, and she swallowed.

“I’m unbothered by the duel. I’m more a witch than she could ever hope to be.”

“If it’ll make you stop moping--” Boscha tapped her shoulder, and she flinched. “--here.”

_ Lost and Forgotten Spells, _ the black inked title read _. _ Amity took it and held it in the lanternlight.

“Where’d you get this?”

“I stole it.”

“Great. I’m honored.”

“Read up. Next time the human challenges you, you’ll beat her into the ground.”

Amity smiled, just a little. That way it was gone by the time she arrived home.

“Evening.”

Amity froze where she stood, eyes on the rough wood of the door to her room. Two cold hands grasped her shoulders. The doorknob was right in sight. She’d been so close. She’d been so, so, so close. She tensed, fingers clamping around the book. Her father’s breath brushed against her neck, festering like wine.

“Not a word.”

Amity pressed her mouth shut and obeyed, let the fear stay sealed away behind her stony face. Her father led her to his room, slowly, gently, so quiet she could pretend he wasn’t there at all. He prodded her inside, not roughly, and left the door open, to her relief.

“Sit.”

Amity sat on the edge of his bed, still holding the book. Her father grunted, dragged over a chair, sat across from her, and handed her a glass of apple blood.

“Drink.”

Amity set the book in her lap and held the glass with both hands. Condensation pooled on her fingers, and she shivered. He mused over his daggers on display, and settled on a ceremonial type one, with a straight blade, nearly long as her forearm, and jeweled handle. He took his cloth and began to polish it.

He watched her for what felt like hours, just staring at her face. Amity knew what he was looking for: fear. Weakness. When she was younger, her expression betrayed her often, and that’s when he smiled, and pressed his hand over her mouth, and made her his. He couldn’t see what terror laid inside of her.

“I heard about the duel,” he finally said. “What an odd thing for you to stumble into.”

Amity stared at the liquid.

“Ah, of course.” He laughed, like it was a game. “You may speak.”

She straightened her back. “A human challenged me to a duel.”

“At the covention?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“She’s a human.” Amity took the first sip of her apple blood, saying the word with as much vitriol as she could manage. As scared as she was, the sweetness was a comfort. “She can’t do magic. She cheated.”

He looked at her in amusement. “You did as well.”

“I didn’t know.”

“How many were there?”

“Not many, it was—was a small gathering, to watch us. Because of the novelty of a human.”

“I believe ‘not many’ means the Emperor’s Coven.” Amity’s father held the blade in the light. “Amity, you were never good at lying. Why do you keep trying?”

Amity sipped her apple blood again. Her pulse climbed as the seconds passed, despite the heaviness in her eyelids. She could feel it, like an elder could feel a storm in their bones. All she could do was brace for lightning to strike.

“I would’ve defeated her. She couldn’t do magic at all—“ Except she could, except she made light, except she drew that glyph and smiled and held it up for Amity to see, taunting her for what would happen to her. “—she took the oath to never train again, she told me she wasn’t a witch.”

_ She told me.  _ That had to be enough. 

Amity’s glass was empty. She set it on the ground.

“I should go to bed,” she said, “I need to be at school early for my extra credit assignment.”

“I’m not mad Amity, just disappointed. I thought I taught you better than this.” Amity glared at him, and he sighed. “I went to the cold storage a while back, to fetch some meat for supper. Turns out the whole thing’d been infested in a place I hadn’t seen, so when I turned it over, it was crawling with maggots. I had this knife with me, see?” He held it up to her face. “And I carved away the maggots with it. After that, the meat was good enough to eat.”

“I love you,” her father said softly, “But I do not love maggots.”

He tapped the knife against his knee. “Emperor Belos values sacrifice. Sacrifice comes first to whatever is not needed. Tell me, Amity. Do you really need ears to do magic?”

She opened and closed her mouth, but no words came.

“Do you need lips? Do you need eyes? Do you need hands at all? You could wave your little arm stubs and make a half decent magic circle, I’m sure of it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. Her father stood.

“Come here.” He walked to the doorframe, and Amity followed, struck with terror. He’d held a blade over her before, many times before, but he’d never do anything, he couldn’t. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist, and she grimaced. “When I say come, I mean quickly. Got it, mittens?”

“Of course.” At least he was yet to strike her. For that, Amity could be relieved.

He dragged over the chair and motioned for her to stand on it. “Arms up,” he said, “Can you reach the top?”

She nodded nervously and grabbed the doorframe. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck. He walked over and held the dagger between her legs. She squeaked.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold on tight.” Her father patted her on the head and kicked away the chair. Amity fell, cried out, tightened her grip on the doorframe.

“Where did Lilith put the glyph?” He asked. Amity shook her head and babbled something incoherent. “Oop! Up you go!”

He slowly raised the dagger, and Amity pulled herself upwards with shaking arms. When she reached the peak of her strength, she spoke, panicked.

“I’m gonna fall,” she cried, “I can’t hold it. I’m gonna fall.”

He lowered the dagger, and Amity followed. Her chest heaved, breaths heavy against her ribcage. She squeezed tears from her eyes, imagining the human outside the window, watching, laughing at her.

“Oh!” He pressed the point of the dagger to her crotch, and she yelped. 

“Stop, I’m sorry!”

“You admit you did something wrong then? You cheated? You cheated in front of an entire crowd?” Amity gritted her teeth, face flushing red. “You let a  _ human _ beat you?”

“It wasn’t like that!” He raised the dagger further, threatening to cut through the thin fabric of her leggings, and she heaved herself upwards again. “Please, I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t--what do you want me to do?”

That was a mistake. Her father held the blade steady, looking contemplative.

“Please!”

Her voice was hoarse and desperate. Pathetic.

Amity’s grip failed, and she screamed. Her father yanked the dagger away; it caught her leg, stinging and nothing more, and she landed on the hard wood with a loud thump.

“Aw...” He set aside the dagger and scooped her into his arms. She covered her reddened face with her hands, but he peeled them away. “Look, that’s all there is.” He pointed to the tiny tear in her uniform. “That’s it! That’s what you were so scared of? Oh Amity...”

She wiped away her furious tears and pushed him away.

“How rude. Well, no point in keeping you from your bed. It’s a bit too cold outside, anyways.”

Amity grabbed her book and ran all the way back to her room. Her eyes stung with tears, but she wiped them away quickly. He couldn't see them. He'd given her mercy just for this night, but anything could trigger his craving for a hunt. She slammed her door shut, collapsed on her bed, and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, her heart calmed, and her pulse steadied. She picked at the tiny cut on her thigh. It was nothing compared to the other scars she had.

She opened the book and took the drawing of the human she'd pressed between its pages.

Brown skin. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A mischievous little smile. Hands from which no bile could be woven into magic, and yet magic they created anyways.

_ I’m Luz. Luz Noceda. _

Amity gritted her teeth. She’d never felt such pure rage than when she saw that human girl again, after she thought her covered in abomination goop would be the last.

Amity held the drawing in front of her.

“I hate you.” She hissed. She shoved the drawing beneath her pillow, and laid beneath her covers, seething.

There was nothing more to think of. Luz was just another one come to torment her. She was a distraction. If Amity was going to save herself, then the human would have no part of it. If she let the ocean embrace her, she would never know. 

At least, not like this. She opened the book to a page that had caught her eye, just moments ago. A switching of lives, a vicious spell, one that only the most powerful witches could replicate. It was more than a simple circle. It needed time. It needed sacrifice.

It needed a mark. 

Amity narrowed her eyes and ran her fingers over the text. To be in another body, to claim another life, to hide in plain sight while someone else took what was meant for her.

_ Emperor Belos values sacrifice. _

The human world was a terrifying thought, but anything would be better than what she endured now. This would suffice. The only other sacrifice would be her lifeless body to the rocks beneath the cliff, and wouldn’t the human celebrate then. Amity wouldn’t let that happen.


	4. Ruin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, slow updates. Overburdened with other original projects.

_ Click _

“Focus right here. Right on me. Right on me. There we go. Wasn’t so hard, see? Good girl.”

_ Click _

Light. Bright light. Her father, his friend, many friends. Her eyes could only see their feet as they paced around her, in the suffocatingly small room. She was bound hand and foot, body numbed so to let Father position her however he pleased.

_ Click _

“How much did you give her?” Another, deeper voice said. It was impossible to keep track. In her drug addled mind, they all melted together.

“I’ll say I don’t really remember. Nor do I care.”

Some of them chuckled at that. Amity tried to move her arms against their tight binds, but every one of her limbs were like rubber. The concrete floor hurt her side; she could feel herself bruising.

“Yeah, keep going. Keep squirmin.”

_ Click _

“She looks like a rat worm.”

This time, they all laughed. Amity’s face flushed red. Father took another photo.

“Ay.” Father clicked his tongue and pushed a man away. “Two thousand extra snails for that. If you don’t want to fork it over, hands off.”

“Snail smart, I see.”

“Blight wealth didn’t come from nowhere.” She heard her father put the camera away. “Now, will that be all?”

Rustling of paper. 

“Hm. Sufficient.”

“Wonderful.”

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Blight.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Their footsteps left the room, leaving only one. Her father idled, pacing back and forth. Amity forced her eyes open. She looked at him, then her bound wrists in front of her, then back at him.

“Right then.” He smiled. “It’s just us.”

He kicked her stomach, the pain knocking her back into the present. She curled up like a dying shrimp and whimpered pathetically. Bile stung the back of her throat.

“Maybe he was right. Maybe that was too much.”

He never hid his intentions anymore. He knew what he wanted.

Amity tried to steady her breath as he cut away the ropes around her ankles and pulled down her leggings. The rough sheet of paper hidden beneath her shirt scratched her back. She gritted her teeth.  _ Come on.  _

Except he didn’t take it off. Humming to himself, her father untied his pants and pulled her to her arms and knees.

“Don’t worry. You’ve been good. I’ll take it easy on you.”

Amity stared at her bound wrists and the cold stone below, dread building up in her throat. If she relaxed, it would be fine. All he wanted was for her to behave. She could do that, she could. She’d show him she was good...for now.

“Tell me, Mittens.” He grabbed her bare bottom, and she flinched. “I’ll give you a choice here, see how kind I am? I have lube with me right here. Want me to use it?”

She didn’t answer. Every word she said meant more suffering.

“Well then. Dry it is.”

Her eyes widened, and her heart nearly stopped.

“No. Wait—“ She said, her voice low and slurred.

“Now you can talk?” He laughed and positioned himself above her. “Ah, I was a fool to think you’d ever be good.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—“

Father took his cock and spread her legs with his.

“If you want to send a prayer to our Emperor, do it now.”

He positioned it at her rectum and shoved.

Shock first, then terror, then pain. Dull pain, burning pain, agonizing pain. Her jaw hung open in a voiceless yell, droplets of puke dripping onto the floor.

“Ow, ow, ow! Father, it hurts—“ When he began pushing further inside her, that’s when she screamed. She could feel her muscles spasming, tissue tearing, his cock violating her bowels, cruel and deep. “Slow down,” she gasped, “Please slow down, please.”

All her dignity was gone, lost in the dank air of the basement.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He grunted and forced himself another few painful inches. “See, every little girl needs a raw, bloody buggering from her father. Aren’t you glad for—“

The door swung open. 

“Eugh.”

Mother stood in the doorway, disgust dripping from her expression.

“Help…” Amity begged. “Please...make him stop…”

Father thrust again, and she wailed miserably.

Mother looked at her with absolute distaste. 

“If you’re going to sodomize the child, then at least gag her. We’re  _ trying  _ to eat dinner. I despise hearing her grovelling anywhere else, why now?”

“Heh. Sorry about—“

She slammed the door shut and strutted away. Father stopped for just a few seconds, though they were no relief from the pain or humiliation. Amity wanted to run to the library and bury her face into a pillow and never let him touch her again.

With a sudden, massive shove, his hips met hers, and she collapsed onto her face. He moved his body forwards and up, so he was completely on top of her, nearly collapsing her from his weight. His beard scratched her neck, his sweat slickening her backside.

“Fuck..” He pulled up her shirt, grabbing it for leverage. Suddenly, he stopped. Amity held her breath.

“What’s this?” He grunted, hand crinkling the paper on her back. Amity suddenly pushed back, shoving the glyph into his hands. A massive ball of light burst behind her, and she closed her eyes. Her father yelled, bringing his hands to his eyes. His yelling abruptly stopped when he passed out.

_ It worked. _

Amity laid beneath her father for a terrible few minutes, unable to think, unable to move, almost even unable to breathe.

She wanted to laugh. For the first time in her life. It still hurt, it still hurt bad. Despite it, or maybe because of it, she pushed her father off of her and stood. She fell just as quickly, her head spinning. Her legs no longer felt like rubber. More like copper wire which had been bent around for too long.

Amity crawled over to her father’s cloak and grabbed the knife tucked within its folds. Holding it tightly in one of her bound hands, she shakily sliced away the ropes, leaving nothing but red outlines of where they’d been.

She was still bleeding wasn’t she? Amity clutched her shirt and stared down at her father's unconscious body, still naked, his exposed cock slick with blood. Her blood.

Amity brought her hands to her face and cried, then laughed, then cried again.

Tears still running down her chin, she rummaged through the secret pockets sewn into her leggings. She wrapped her fingers around the tiny vial, popped the cork out, and brought it to her lips. As soon as the bitter liquid made it down her throat, she doubled over and heaved. The taste of acid and bile stung her tongue. For a moment there was nothing. Then, she coughed, heaved again, and vomited. 

The sickly sweet spiked apple blood pooled beneath her, practically all liquid. Immediately, she felt the cramping in her stomach subside. She wiped her mouth and slapped her cheeks.

Her head was far from clear, her arms far from strength. But it was better than nothing.

She drew a shaky circle in the air. Nothing. Her bile was still nulled by what he’d given her. But the human’s glyph…

It was real then. She’d done magic. Despite herself, she felt..impressed? Amity huffed and pinched herself. Unbelievable. Disgusting. The human was nothing, and they both knew it. She pushed her pesky emotions down to where they belonged. 

(Not in her.)

“Luz.”

The human had been hanging out with her siblings. Amity growled and put the paper away, pressing two fingers to her throbbing temples. They were up to something. They always were. Midnight, at the library, they’d said. Midnight it was, then.

Right as she was put her leggings back on and smooth back her hair, Amity looked again at her father. He muttered something in his sleep and rolled over. She swallowed, her heart falling to the pit of her stomach. She’d saved herself for now, but...when he woke and found she wasn’t there…

Then his brutality would be a reminder for her to keep going.


	5. Adverse Reactions

“Are you okay?”

Amity glared at the girl standing in the doorway of her library hideout. Not a secret anymore, after all.

“Don’t you have a mess to clean up?” Amity snapped. Luz looked hurt by that. Amity didn’t apologize. Apology was a weakness. She clutched her diary closer to her chest instead. 

“I won’t say I understand you, because I don’t.”

Ah. The first correct thing the human had said.

“You didn’t deserve to have your privacy violated. It was terrible for Ed and Em to do that.”

She had no idea. Amity wanted to laugh, laugh and tell her all she’d been through.

“You...you mentioned your parents in there,” Luz clasped her hands together. Amity flinched. “Your father.”

“If I tell you, will you stop bugging me about it?”

“You don’t have to--”

Amity sighed and leaned back.

“The Blights are a strict kind. My parents’ wealth didn’t come from nowhere. Discipline, fortitude, intelligence.” Amity paused and caressed the cover of her diary. “I have to be the same. My father is...” A complete monster. “...strict. He was never like that to my siblings. Just to me. He wanted me to be the best. And I am. But...”

She sighed and leaned back on the wall.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be what he wants me to be.”

“Thats’a lot to put on a kid,” Luz said softly.

Amity laughed, a cold, bitter laugh. She’d never been a kid, had she?

“He must care about you a lot, though!”

“Yes.”

“You should tell him how you feel. Tell him how much it hurts you, and maybe he’ll come around. He wants you to be the best, but you can show him how great you already are!”

“Perhaps.”

Luz was silent for a while.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She stood and brushed herself off. “Let’s get all that stuff cleaned up before I pass out.”

\--

“Hey Amity!”

Amity groaned and picked up another book from the rubble, setting on top of her stack.

“Amityy,” Luz called, her voice practically caressing her roots. Amity turned and came face to face with the...human. Ugh. Still so strange.

“Back it up.” She snapped. “Personal space.”

“Ooh, sorry.” Luz politely took a few steps back, nearly tripping over a book as she did. What an idiot. Amity smiled, then realized what she was doing and masked it as a scoff.

Luz looked at her, puzzled.

“You alright?”

“I didn’t...think you’d listen.”

Luz held a fist against her chin and tilted her head. “Whaaat? Of course I would. I always listen.” She slapped that fist over her chest and looked up dramatically. “I pledge to always do cool and good things, and never be evil and/or do various illegal activities.” She gave Amity a mischievous grin. “That’s what I said when I became Eda’s apprentice.”

“Right.” Amity rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning.

What a strange girl. In a completely obnoxious and uncharming way, of course.

The sun was rising. Crisp morning light streamed through the stained glass windows of the library, illuminating the surprisingly clean floor. Luz took a broom and began sweeping up the last of the debris as Amity’s abomination pushed the shelf upright.

“We’re almost there!” Luz said. Side note, Luz wasn’t actually sweeping properly. She was just swishing the dirt around a bit. Amity didn’t know why she didn’t say something, but she didn’t. 

“Just sort them alphabetically by author. That should be good enough. I’m sick of this place, anyways.”

“Got it.” Luz began setting the books on the shelf. Amity tried to pretend she wasn’t staring at her out of the corner of her eyes. 

After what felt like hours, mostly of Luz goofing around and doing certainly unfunny things that did not make Amity laugh at all, ever, they were finished. Luz crossed her arms and looked proudly upon her own mess which she’d fixed.

“High five!” Luz held her hand in front of Amity.

Amity raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh, I never taught you. Just slap my hand with your hand.”

Amity poked her palm and flinched away as if it were a hot stove.

Luz shrugged. “Close enough.”

They left the library with little issue, thank the Titan, Amity would’ve broken a window if the door was locked from the outside and they were stuck together until the librarian came.

“I know we didn’t start out the greatest. How about we start over?” Luz looked genuine now, no tricks, no jokes. Impossible. “Trust me. If you need anything, I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“That’s unrealistic and accelerating that fast would turn you into mush.”

Luz laughed out loud.

“You’re a riot, Amity! Anyways...sorry about that. Thanks for helping clean up.”

Amity let the ice freeze over her heart once more as she walked down the steps. “This never happened.


	6. Dindle.

_Orcish hops_

_Wild Tongue_

_Laceflower_

_Itchweed_

Dindle

Amity held her face in her hands and stared down at the book. What even were these things? Itchweed had to be some sort of drug. And “Dindle” just sounded like a straight up typo. She wondered if authors of ancient evil texts had editors.

She winced when she shifted in her seat, the pain a horrible reminder of what he’d done. What a miserable day, one she knew could only get worse. In all that...Luz chaos, she’d somehow forgotten, only for it to hit her once the human was out of sight. She’d nearly passed out in class, and could barely walk anywhere, even after she bribed the healing class for some extra glyphs. Her underwear was smeared with blood. Even then, she insisted on staying to sweep or organize or do anything but go home. Bump shooed her away.

Her father was nowhere to be seen since that night, not in his study, not at the door, not even at dinner. It comforted her little. Especially when her mother glared at her so.

(The roast didn’t sit well in her stomach, and Amity spent half an hour vomiting into the toilet.)

No use crying. This was what she got for meandering like she did, not even trying to run.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Plural. And voices, plural. 

“Ow--hey!”

The door slammed open, and her father entered the doorway, holding her grumbling siblings by the ears.

Amity held her breath. “Dad--”

“Twins.” Her father shoved Emira and Edric into her room. “Apologize.”

What?

She looked at her father, then her siblings, then back at her father. What was this?

“Apologize to your little sister, now.” The vitriol in his voice wasn’t directed to her, yet Amity still flinched.

Edric cleared his throat, and Emira rubbed the back of her hair with her hand.

“Er...sorry...sis.” Edric was the first to speak.

“Yeah. What he said.”

Father pulled on their ears again, and they yelped.

“We’re really sorry for reading your diary--”

“And almost getting you killed--”

“You what?” Father hissed.

“It was the drawing, not us!”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his stiff hair. “Amity,” At the sound of her name, Amity straightened, “do you accept their apology?”

They did look genuinely guilty, even if it was only because they were caught. Amity rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

No, of course not, what the hell?

Satisfied, her father shooed them away. Leaving her with him. Alone. In her room.

“How was school?” he asked, after too much time.

“Fine.”

“What’d you get on your exam?”

Choosing to speak as little as possible, Amity handed him the paper. He looked at it pensively.

“Lovely work!” He ruffled her hair and smiled.

He was toying with her. There was no way he didn’t remember what happened. He was going to tackle her any second, pin her to the ground, shove her over her desk and fuck her with the door open, so to rip open her wounds.

He didn’t. He left.

He left her alone.

And in the middle of the night, he came back. Amity stayed as still as she could beneath her covers as he loomed over her. She heard him sigh, then ever so gently, pull the covers back, exposing her to the cold night air. She couldn’t help but shiver and curl back towards herself.

“Oh, Amity.”

Slowly, he climbed into her bed and took her into his arms. Groggily, she groaned and opened her eyes.

“Shh…” he brushed a hair away from her face and stroked her cheek. “It’s me. It’s dad.” 

It’s dad.

He pressed her closer to him, bed creaking, and wormed a cold hand up her shirt, squeezing her small breasts. She shivered, and he chuckled.

“C’mon.” His voice was softer than it’d ever been. He began pulling off her nightclothes, first her shirt, which she let him unbutton and throw off the bed. Amity whined and crossed her arms over her bare chest, but he took her arms and pinned them to her side.

Then, he began pulling down her pants.

“I don’t wanna…” she murmured, eyes half lidded. 

“It’ll be nice and easy. Nice and easy, mittens.”

He paused.

“Who did this?” 

He raised his fingers to her face. They were crusted with dried blood.

“Who hurt you?”

Amity shook her head.

“Nobody hurts my Amity.” He grasped her face. “Nobody.”

He laid back against the headboard and, grasping her hair, guided her face to his crotch. He pulled his cock from his pants, half hard and stinking of sweat. 

“Make it slick, okay?” He pressed it against her lips, and she whimpered. She still could never get used to the girth of it, and how...alien it looked, how veiny and fleshy. “Make it nice and slick so it doesn’t tear open your tight little pussy.”

Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and took it in. It made its way over her tongue, and as it reached the back of her throat, his grip tightened on her hair. She gagged, instinctively trying to spit it out.

Her father pulled her up to look at him, at his bright eyes.

“Do you want me to facefuck you?”

Amity’s lips trembled. She shook her head. “N-no, please don’t…”

“Then suck. Take it all the way.” 

“I’m gonna puke…” Amity mewled.

“Puke then. Puke all over my cock. As long as you take it all the way down your whore throat like a good top student. It’s going down no matter what.” He smiled gently, again. “I know you can do it.”

This time, he pushed it all the way past her tongue, into her throat, until her face was pressed into a smelly bush of brown hair. His balls touched her chin, and he groaned.

“Good girl, mittens.”

She closed her eyes, pressing out tears she hoped he couldn’t see. Her gag reflex went into overdrive, and she felt something acidic come up her throat as it spasmed around his thick cock.

Finally, he let her up for air. She gasped and heaved, strings of spit clinging to his glistening cock as he pulled her away.

“Good girl…” he said again. “How about a reward..”

He pulled her onto his lap, rubbing his slick cock on her folds. 

“Please—“ she begged, “Please be gentle…”

He chuckled and positioned his cock beneath her.

“I think you’ve earned it.”

Grasping her hips, he lowered her onto his cock. She clenched her teeth and stifled a cry as it impaled her; it still hurt.

She dug her fingernails into his back as he grasped her tiny body, raising her off his dick, then, with a gentle forcefulness, lowered her again, eliciting a pained squeak.

“Mmm...just like that. Good girl.”

He bucked his hips, slowly at first, then picking up speed, bouncing her on his lap as she silently cried. She tried to hide her pain by pressing her face into his shoulder, so to not disturb her dear father’s pleasure. The warmth of him was overwhelming. 

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered into his bare skin, “I’m sorry…”

“What’s going on with you? There’s nothing to be sorry for, little one.”

His voice was soft against the obscene sound of flesh on wet flesh. He was gaining speed, sweat pooling on his neck.

“Want me to dump my cum inside you?” She shook her head weakly, barely comprehending his words. ”Oh, why do I ask. What you want doesn’t matter. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank—thank you dad…”

He grunted and thrust into her balls deep, jamming it against her cervix, and finally, she cried out in pain, digging her face further into his shoulder. His cock twitched inside her, warm wetness filling her up as he came. 

Her father stood, then laid her down on the bed.

“You can let go now, little one.”

He pulled out of her and tucked his still wet cock back into his pants. Amity could feel his semen leaking from her hole, staining her bedsheets. It was already beginning to dry in her pubes, turning sticky and crackly.

“You’re perfect, Amity.” He kissed her forehead and tucked her in. “So, so soft, and so, so tight. I chose well not to destroy your innocent little cunt so early.”

Amity sniffled and nodded. He was right. She should be grateful.

He came closer, his beard rough against her cheek. “Tomorrow. After school. In my study. I’ll bend you over the desk and fuck you all night. If I don’t see you waiting for me, legs spread like the whore you are, I’ll take my boot and ram it up your cunt till its black and blue.”

She nodded.

“That’s a good girl.”

When he left her, covered in his sweat, throat hurting, cunt swollen and sore and oozing with his seed, she felt nothing but relief.


	7. Enter: Luzura

luzura: hi

luzura: hello

luzura: *hewwo

luzura: is this the right contact or am i talkign to a sentient pumpkin also named amity blrt or soemthign

Amity Blight: It’s the right contact. It is also in the middle of the night.

luzura: !!! :D

luzura: time is an illusion

luzura: whatdo you think of the book so far???

Amity Blight: I don’t know. I haven’t started yet. I have things to do other than indulge in fictional worlds, you know.

luzura: :(

luzura: im crying

luzura: u made me cry

Amity Blight: Good.

luzura: wow.

luzura: speaekinf of,

luzura: the book on chronology i ordered finally arrived

luzura: its about time!!!!

Amity Blight: Ew.

luzura: i bet yoh laughed

Amity Blight: I did not.

luzura: bet you did

Amity Blight: No, I didn’t.

luzura: did

Amity Blight: Did not.

luzura: did.

Amity Blight: This is inane. Knock it off.

luzura: yOU DIDNT DENY IT THAT TIME!! YOUR LAHGHING RIGHT NOW

Amity Blight: Stop! That’s not how this works!

luzura: hehe

luzura: hey whats your homework?

Amity Blight: Why do you care?

Amity Blight: It’s a chart on the proper proportions of ingredients for various types of abominations.

luzura: :OOOO thats so cool!!!! 

luzura: i did something like that with eda last week

luzura: we put stuff in a hole in the ground and then ate it, and then i threw up

Amity Blight: I think that’s called cooking.

“Mm. What are you smiling at?”

Amity’s heart skipped a beat—she collapsed her scroll and went limp under the covers. Her father’s arm, wrapped around her body, pulled her closer to him, pressing her face against the heat of his bare chest. His scent, while not unpleasant, made her want to throw up.

“What’s the matter? You’re acting strange.”

“N-nothing.” She swallowed. “Can’t sleep.”

Father pulled back the covers and looked into her eyes. His hand brushed her cheek. Amity flinched, bracing for a strike that never came.

“Thinking about your new spell?” His breath smelled like ripe summer plums, sour and very sweet.

“What-what new spell?” she stuttered.

He chuckled. “You’ve got a funny little mind, Amity. The spell you’re working on. It must be a wicked thing, no?”

“It’s a special spell.” She averted her gaze, hoping he didn’t notice her faltering voice. Her bedroom was still dark; whether it was late at night or early morning, she had no way of telling. “Something powerful.”

“That’s my girl.”

He grabbed her face and pushed his lips into hers, cutting off her words. His tongue forced her lips apart, exploring her mouth like a slimy leech in its crevice. Amity whimpered and tried to push him away, but he pressed further, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning her down to the bed, positioning himself above her. 

“N-now?” Amity struggled to speak into his slimy mouth. He pulled away and grasped her chin tightly.

“Are you questioning me?” He asked, not unkindly, and yet even the barest sound of disapproval made Amity’s stomach turn. Suddenly, she was back in that dark basement, drugged, bound, beneath him, then begging, then screaming, then bleeding, then—

“Hey, hey.” His soft voice cut through her panicked breaths. 

“No—“

“Breathe. Just breathe.” His grip tightened on her wrists. “In. Out.”

“No, no no no no no—“

“I’ll be gentle. You’ve earned it. Unless you want me to stop playing nice.” He released one of her arms to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “If you like it rough, you can just say so.

…

“No?”

Amity swallowed and pressed her eyes shut, trying to suppress her shaking. He could be kind, if she could just be a good daughter and do what he ordered. He’d done so much for her. This was the least she owed him. 

He only hurt her when she deserved it. Father was the one who knocked on the bathroom door every day, asking if she was okay, because she’d been in there for an hour, and she was sobbing and shitting blood and struggling not to pass out or have a panic attack, but she didn’t let him see.

In the end, he was as gentle as he promised, but his gentleness was never pleasant. One wrong move, and the glimmer in his eyes would shift, and she’d be begging for his forgiveness again.

“It’s like making love to a corpse, you know that?” he said once, back when she was twelve, when he took her to see the fireworks, like she’d always wanted to, when he dragged her into the park’s disgusting bathroom and furiously fucked her on the litter strewn, piss stained floor, clothes barely even half off. She’d gone limp because there were ants crawling between the cracks of the concrete, and she was terrified of accidentally swallowing them. Or worse, if she angered him and he’d force her to lick them up.

Now it seemed a corpse was all he wanted. He raped her like she was a rag doll, no feelings, no fear, just a fleshy fucktoy, like she’d always been. When he quickened his pace, when he pulled out of her and rammed his cock back inside with the force of a thrust spear, shaking her entire body, when his sack slapped noisily against her crotch at a nauseating rhythm, she whimpered, because she knew he liked that.

Was this how love was meant to be? Was it supposed to make her red with shame? Was it supposed to make her sob silently beneath the man who raised her? Was it supposed to hurt this bad? 

If it was, then Amity would rather have no love at all.

_ Buzz _

Amity cracked open an eyelid and snuck a peek at her father. He held her tight against his naked body, one hand grasping her hair painfully. In sleep, his member was soft on her leg, thank the titan, even the sensation of it made her sick. 

_ Buzz _

Again. She already knew who this was. 

Amity took a breath and summoned her scroll. The light hit her face, and she flinched, but her father didn’t make a single sound.

luzura: hey im sorry for botherin you ahsein butt uhhhhh the wailign star was ont for one day rightVv??? cause eda has a stack of books and i think it ate king he didn show up for our weekly late night early morning waffle hour. or mahbe it was hooty ok night sorry if im being anoying

What an idiot. She really was the perfect mark.

Amity Blight: It only lasted for that night. Do you think it somehow decided to stay around in the sky or something?

luzura: >:( maybe…

Amity Blight: Listen. I will be finished with the book at one point or another. When I’m done, we shall meet so I may return it. Acceptable?

luzura: ur so serious all the time!!! ya ill pick it up lol

luzura: cant wait to hear your thoguhts!!!!!!!

Amity closed her scroll and nuzzled her face into her father’s arm. If this was how Luz really was, then maybe her plan wasn’t so stupid after all.


	8. An Update

Hello. I understand it has been a while. I’ve been...preoccupied. In fact, due to those preoccupations, I am working on a project with some other fine people.

Not to worry. I will be updating as soon as possible. Every chapter is planned out. No more improvisation.

I did not expect such ire to start from this one little work. It astonishes me. To the lovely twitter denizens who directed that ire towards someone very special, two weeks ago, I must thank you all for formally introducing us. I’ve had not had this much fun talking to anybody in my life. 

Love you, Neko. :)


	9. Red

There might have been something wrong with her. Amity left when the half moon was high in the sky, taking the quietest path to the Northern entrance, with nothing but her bookbag and the stash of snails she’d squirreled away beneath her bed for weeks. The Northern entrance was squat and plain; it was practically a hidden passage compared to the thick wintercress pine of the main doorway. What was important was that its hinges didn’t squeak when she opened it, and the floorboards didn’t make a sound as she gingerly stepped outside. 

Hood over her hair, loosened and tangled from a pathetically short bout of nightmare plagued sleep, she began her brisk walk down the hill. The gentle breeze whistling through the trees, coupled with the unusually warm night, made it strangely…comforting. At least, as close to comforting sneaking out of the house could be. Definitely an improvement from the only other times she was made to wander the forest.

What would she even do if he found her out here? Lie down and play dead, maybe.

Finally, she reached the reddened core of Bonesborough: the Night Market. For such a crowded place, it was remarkably silent, which perhaps was why she took comfort in her times here. The people watched, and stared, from behind their stands and in darkened alleyways, but Amity knew there was little room in their skulls for anything besides snails. There was comfort in those blank eyes, more than there ever could be at home. Here she was nobody. Here, nobody knew she was—

“Amity?!”

Luz stared at her, bag in hand. Amity stared back.

“Luz?”

“You go to the night market?”

“ _You_ go to the night market?”

The lumpy beetle-like shopkeeper had grown impatient, and Amity felt him prying her fingers apart with his talons, trying to reach the coins inside. She uncurls her fist and crosses her arms, and lets them fall to the ground. He scrambles to pick them up, antennae twitching like he was about to fall over and have a seizure.

“Here, mister, let me help.” Luz reached down to assist. He hissed at her, and she jumped back.

“So,” Amity crossed her arms. “what are you doing around here?”

Luz held up a list. “I’m getting some supplies for Eda. Apparently normal markets don’t have this stuff.”

“The Owl Lady still makes you do her errands?”

“Well, yeah, I live there, and I’m her apprentice.” Sheepishly, Luz stuffed the list back into her bag. “Buuut...she might not know about this one. I just wanted to do something nice for her.”

“Guess I’ll have to help you, then.” Amity scoffed, put the bundle of into her satchel, and walked away. Luz froze for a moment, then jogged after her.

“Really?”

“I’m not going to let you get eaten by some skin hoarder.”

“You have those?”

“What supplies does Eda need?” Amity changed the topic quickly, idly scanning the stalls for anything resembling what the book had described. 

Luz took out her own list again and handed it to her.

“Potion stuff.” She shrugged. 

Amity scanned it, and let out an obnoxiously long sigh, so Luz would know how annoyed she was. It doesn’t faze her at all. “You really didn’t need to go to the night market for this.” 

“I just wanted to see the night market. And now that you’re here, you have to help me.” Luz balanced on the balls of feet in mock coyness.

Amity pressed her lips together in what Luz seemed to interpret as a reluctant smile, because she responded with a shit eating grin of her own. 

_Humans, including this one, have blunt teeth and no fangs._

With brutal efficiency, Amity led Luz through the crimson labyrinth, picking out magically sealed vials, suspiciously labeled bottles of liquid, and, when she got the chance, buying her own supplies.

Their time together was surprisingly peaceful. It was...nice. Luz almost caught her staring, to memorize her human features of course, nothing else. She was lacking the usual Luz antics, maybe out of exhaustion. Amity was shocked that she didn’t say a word when she bought a curved knife, one she believed thin enough to slice skin from flesh without damaging anything beneath. An expensive one too. The spell was far too similar to some sort of medical procedure to her liking. She’d been spending her hours after school practicing on pigs, volunteering her labor to the butcher under the guise of wanting to be useful. But those pigs were dead, almost all gutted, and rather boring. 

“What do you need all those things for?” Luz asked as Amity exchanged a hundred snails for a stick of chalk, deep violet and smooth.

“For a project.

“For school?”

Amity shrugged. “Could be.”

“Wow...”

Without glancing in her direction, Amity slapped her hand away.

“Hey!” Luz protested, cradling her poor attacked arm, “I wasn’t even doing anything that time!”

_Limbs similar to humans, with typical variance as expected._

“I look away for one second and that chalk goes into your hand. Another second, and that chalk’s on the floor.”

Luz huffs, half jokingly. “I’m not stupid, Amity.”

“How could I forget?” Amity chuckled. “Your name means light. And you are...pretty bright.”

Luz gasped. “You think so?”

“I was surprised too.”

Luz cocked her head, and Amity immediately felt guilty.

“Sorry.” Amity apologized, but in a way that could totally be brushed off as sarcasm. “It’s automatic.”

“No—How do you know the meaning of my name?”

She looked at her incredulously. “You told me.”

“When?”

During all of their chatfing, Amity was surprised they got anything done at all. Luz ended up trying to tug her bag from some eighteen eyed beast, while Amity forged ahead and began searching for the final thing on her list. Dindle. Whatever that was.

“Hey. Mittens.”

Amity whirled around and locked eyes—no, it had no eyes—with some sort of armored creature, standing inside it’s own little stall.

“How are you?” Its voice echoed from inside its helmet. Amity sneered.

“Just fine, until now. What do you want.”

It leaned closer. 

“What is little mittens doing all alone, without her father, in the night market?”

Amity stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luz approaching, lugging Eda’s supplies.

“Luz, I forgot a bundle in the last stall. Get it for me.” Amity pushed her away.

“On it!”

She yanked her arm out of its grip and shook her hand, like she was trying to dry them.

“Buying things, like anyone else.” She glared at it with as much distaste as she could muster. “Certainly don’t need anything from _you_.”

The suit’s mouth creaked open, and Amity narrowed her eyes. There was something—someone lurking inside. Someone with flesh, exposed flesh, shadowy, pulsing red. A sweet smell emanated from its insides. Slowly, a tongue-like tendril emerged from the opening, uncurling to reveal a photograph. Amity’s throat tightened. She saw a glimpse of exposed skin, and a smear of blood, and a tuft of minty hair..

Without thinking, she snatched it away and crumpled it into a tiny ball.

The creature laughed, deep and grating, like it’d just eaten a sheet of sandpaper. “You must miss it so much.”

Amity leaned closer, threateningly. The creature leaned forward as well. “Where did you get this?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Amity Blight, you are in no position to question. You could consider your father an artist, of sorts. And you are quite the desired subject.” Suddenly, it grabbed her wrist with its cold, clammy hand. “I’m glad to finally meet the girl behind them.”

Amity shoved it back. It barely budged at all, just hissed at her like she’d touched it with a hot iron. She drew a spell circle and crossed her arms, letting it hover in front of her. 

“Certainly, your father taught you better manners than—“

Amity clenched her fist and turned it. The spell circle shimmered, and the creature went silent, its words lost in the night air. Her nails dug into her palm.

Its metal form shuddered, then began to gurgle. Abomination goop bubbled from its helmet. 

“If—if you wanted them that badly, you could’ve—“ the creature’s voice began to quiet, as the abomination seeped into every one of its orifices. “—asked.”

Slowly, it collapsed into a heap and twitched on the ground. More photographs spilled from the slits in its armor, and Amity’s face turned red, even though they were barely visible. Its groans of pain echoed from its helmet. She kicked its limp hand aside.

“Ew.”

She picked up one of the photos, despite everything inside her that told her to tear it apart. It was the basement again. Her, and her father, and the rats. She looked at them, then back at the creature suffering at her feet. Blood swirled beside abomination clay, seeping into the dirt. There were dozens of them, hundreds, and not just in the possession of this one creature.

Amity drew a spell circle and watched as they all disintegrated into ash, bringing her suffering with them.

“I got it—oh, gross.” Luz winced at the sight of the fallen creature. “What happened while I was gone?”

“Demon things.”

“Is it...dead?”

“Mmm. Not yet.” Amity pressed her fist to her chin. “I likely did not infuse the abomination deep enough, so it’s barely through its skin. It’ll die, obviously, but it will be slow.”

“Oh…” 

Amity turned to her. “Do you have all you need?”

“Y—“

“Then go home.” She rubbed her arm. “This was fun. I’ll return your book in a few days.”

With that, Luz perked right back up.

“Thanks for helping!” Luz reached out to hug her, but she paused, and saluted instead. “See you later, Blight.”

See you.

—

Torso.

Arms.

Legs.

Head.

Ears…

Her sketches were coming together, entwined with the book’s written descriptions. It would be a circular cut on her torso, not deep enough to break through to the chest cavity, but enough to peel the skin back to place the glyph. 

Arms.

Legs.

Spine.

Skull.

Skull. Luz was such a _bonehead._ But she wasn’t. But she _was._

Hands.

Fingers.

Ears?

Those round ears that had been such a source of frustration were now strangely amusing to her.

Her pulse climbed when she thought of all her stupid cheeky looks and all of her _antics._ She made so much trouble, but she was so kind, so caring. Even when Amity was mean to her again and again all she wanted was to be her friend.

Amity pressed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. What was this feeling? Why did she still hate her so?

Heart.

Her grip loosened. A trail of ink marred the sketch as she dropped the pen and ran her hands down her hot face.

“Well.” Amity sucked in a long breath. “Shit.”


	10. Recording

Recording Transcription

Time: 00:59

Warden: Amity Blight. Fourteen. Enrolled at Hexside school of magic.

Amity Blight: Correct.

[Sound of paper shuffling]

Warden: It’s late.

…

…

…

Warden: So? What is it, girl. 

Amity Blight: I need help.

Warden: What, with your homework? Does Lilith’s top student finally need tutoring?

[Chuckles from guards]

Amity Blight: No, I’m doing just fine academically.

Warden: Then get to it. I don’t care who your family is, I’d be happy to throw any spoiled brat into the pit to teach them a lesson.

Amity Blight: It is my family. They’ve...done cruel things to me. I’m scared to go home every day. I need help.

Warden: That’s it? You’ve come here to whine about being disciplined? 

Amity Blight: No! No, Warden Wrath. It’s worse. He’s beaten me, and he—

Warden: Spit it out.

…

…

…

Amity Blight: He’s touched me. He’s forced me to—

[Fist slams on table, voice stiffens]

Amity Blight: He rapes me, Warden. He does it every day. Ever since I was young. He won’t stop, you have to help me, he doesn’t listen—

Warden: Stop! Stop. Your prattling makes me ill.

Amity Blight: I’m sorry.

Warden: You know your father is one of the lost prestigious men of the Boiling Isles.

Amity Blight: I know, but—

Warden: He’s fed and clothed and raised you, and you come here to tarnish his character? You disgust me. If you were my child, spoiled that you are, I would’ve taken a rod to your hands.

…

…

…

Warden: It’s that human criminal, isn’t it. You’ve stupidly decided to become her friend.

[Harsh intake of breath]

Warden: She set you up to do this.

Amity Blight: She told me to get someone who could help. And she’s not a criminal. She’s sweet, and smart, and she makes me smile...

…

…

...

Warden: Do you love your father.

Amity Blight: Yes, yes. I do. I want him to be my dad. I never intended to insult him, but Warden—

Alador Blight: Good to hear.

Amity Blight: What?

Warden: Ah, Mr. Blight. Finally arrived. Well, here she is. I think it’s way past her bedtime.

Amity Blight: …

Alador Blight: You silly thing. Come along. You don’t have school tomorrow, but your extra assignments won’t do themselves.

Warden: Hah! Of course. You keep her busy, Blight.

Alador Blight: Amity, can you hear me? Get up, little one.

Amity Blight: Yes, Father.

End recording


End file.
